


natural as the night

by phoenixinthefire



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, i wrote this in like 10 minutes please forgive me, just silly boys in love, steve is a clingy drunk, this is so fluffy im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixinthefire/pseuds/phoenixinthefire
Summary: It is far too late and far too risky to be walking this close to Steve, but frankly, Bucky is far too drunk to care.





	natural as the night

It is far too late and far too risky to be walking this close to Steve, but frankly, Bucky is far too drunk to care.

The Brooklyn streets are dark, illuminated only by the flickering streetlamps, but golden and lovely through Bucky's drunken haze. There isn't a single person in sight; it's gotta be at least after three. His right arm is hooked around Steve's shoulders, Steve's slender fingers holding his hand lightly. So cold, Steve's hands, always so cold. Even in these summer nights, the air hanging warm and thick above them, Bucky has to grab Steve's hands and rub them between his own. 

They walk slowly, dizzy and giddy from too much cheap beer. Bucky feels his blood fizzing, feels every muscle in his body stretch like taffy, feels his brain go fuzzy as he rests his chin on top of Steve's head. He hasn't felt so light in weeks.

He suddenly pulls away, patters off the sidewalk into the empty street, spinning in a slurred, jumpy little dance to make Steve laugh. The asphalt is warm, alive, pulsing underneath the thin soles of his shoes. 

"Buck, get out of the _streeeet! _" Steve says in a stage whisper, drawing out the last word and giggling.__

____

Bucky hops back onto the sidewalk, twisting his hands behind his back and looking down at his shoes. He smirks at Steve, then looks back down and keeps walking with swinging steps, laughing softly.

"The hell you laughin' at, Barnes?" Steve asks. Bucky can hear him smiling.

"No-thing," Bucky drawls, returning a grin.

Steve pushes him half-heartedly and scoffs. "What? You got somethin to say?"

Bucky smirks, gazing at Steve. His hair glimmers under the yellow light of the streetlamps. He looks like an angel. 

"You're so pretty, Stevie."

"Oh quit it, Buck."

"I mean it, punk. Prettiest thing I ever saw."

"Shut up, Buck, someone'll hear you-" Steve says, half-laughing.

"I don't care, Steve, I don't care, I don't care," Bucky says, surging towards Steve with a hunger glinting in his eyes, cool as stone and sparkling like jewels. He strides right up to Steve, and Steve looks up at him and something in Bucky's chest goes tight. He gazes up at Bucky, his gaze suddenly soft and adoring, his lips parted and eyelids heavy. He lets his walls down when he's drunk.  
Their noses are nearly touching. Bucky looks into Steve's eyes, throws a glance over his shoulders. Not a soul around. Not even a glowing window. He smirks at Steve and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, an echo of a smile still on his mouth. 

"Let's get home, punk," he slurs against Steve's lips.

Steve whines as Bucky starts walking jauntily away, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. 

"Buckyy, don't do that to me… you fuckin' _jerk _," he complains, stomping behind a laughing Bucky like a toddler.__

____

__

They barely make it to their building, stumbling after one another in the dark. They make the trek up to their tiny apartment on the third floor, Bucky digs around in the front pocket of his slacks for the key for ages, his eyes-half closed, _god when did he get so tired _, until Steve swats his hand away and sticks his own skinny hand into Bucky's back pocket and fishes out the key. He spins it around his index finger, squinting his eyes in a way that's supposed to be menacing but just makes Bucky laugh. He tries to make a quip but it's much too slow to be biting.  
"You really are…the genius of the c-century, aren't you, Buck?" __

____

____

Bucky just lays his head against the fraying wallpaper of the hallway as he watches Steve fumble with the lock. After what feels like a century their door finally swings open, emitting a ridiculously loud creak that makes them both cringe. Bucky closes it gingerly, and locks the handle after three tries, his vision going maddeningly in and out of focus. He's still turned towards the door when Steve comes up behind him, wrapping his thin arms around Bucky's waist, laying his forehead between his shoulderblades. 

"I love you, Buck," he murmurs into Bucky's shirt, the blue linen soft and damp against his lips. 

The room is spinning and Bucky braces himself against the door. He's so drunk he feels like he's falling, but Steve keeps him here. Steve, with his bony shoulders and artist's fingers and messy golden hair and rough baritone voice, all of him so strong and solid and fiery, he keeps Bucky safe on the ground.

Bucky turns around slowly, trying to keep his balance. He leans back against the door, and Steve's hands come to rest at his neck. He looks so goddamn angelic Bucky could cry.  
" _I love you _," he repeats, almost a whisper.__

____

____

The world is still and silent around them.

Bucky closes his eyes and nudges forward, taking Steve's bottom lip into his mouth and holding him, one strong hand on the small of his back and the other stroking his neck. Steve's mouth parts slightly, and Bucky deepens the kiss, sighing and furrowing his brow. Steve tastes like beer and honey and salt and Steve, and Bucky could die right here and now, it's so perfect.  
He pulls away, resting his forehead against Steve's, panting softly. 

"Stevie… as much as I'd love to keep necking in the doorway for the next decade, I'm _really _fuckin' tired, pal."__

____

____

Steve just laughs, deep and quiet. "Okay, Buck."

They shuck off their shoes by the door, and stumble through their tiny apartment in the dark, throwing down their ties and slacks on the floor of their room. It's warm out, but still cool enough to sleep together. Bucky collapses onto their bed first, on his back, and Steve piles on top of him, head on Bucky's chest, Bucky's hands resting on his back, carding through his hair. They don't speak, not like they need to. They both drift into sleep quickly and silently, the moonlight streaming pale and clear through the open window.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is just a ridiculously fluffy oneshot i needed to get out of my system. i'm trying to get back into writing and i'm new to ao3 so please don't judge me too harshly! feel free to leave a comment with any tips or corrections! i hope yall enjoy these dorks in love
> 
> title is from don mclean's winterwood :)


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